


Ripples

by elirwen



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Immortal Merlin, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 14:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16220699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elirwen/pseuds/elirwen
Summary: “Fifteen hundred years,” Merlin whispers.The water is still, silent, dark.“It’s a long time to be alive,” he continues, his eyes drawn to the tower that has been watching Albion change for even longer than him. “All the wars, famines, disasters, violence, hatred,... There’s not much good left in the world.”





	Ripples

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Coinelot 2018. Some of the attendees had a print of this story in their Coinelot goodie bags. :)

“Fifteen hundred years,” Merlin whispers. 

The water is still, silent, dark.

“It’s a long time to be alive,” he continues, his eyes drawn to the tower that has been watching Albion change for even longer than him. “All the wars, famines, disasters, violence, hatred,... There’s not much good left in the world.”

There’s no response, nothing but the quiet whispering of the slightly chilly autumn wind playing with the leaves of the trees guarding the shore of the ancient lake. 

“Even magic is retreating, hiding,” Merlin says, leaning forward, pulling his knees closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “People forget, no longer believe in our existence,” he mumbles, a shiver that has nothing to do with cold running down his spine. 

A small ripple catches Merlin’s attention. Most likely a fish snatching its prey from the water’s surface. He reaches for his magic, wills it to spread forward. Unnatural stillness replaces the natural tranquillity. The surface of the lake becomes a gently undulating landscape. Smooth, even, glossy. The ripple stands out, a circular mountain range in the middle of a bland plain. Just like he himself stands out in this mundane, magicless world.

“Is it the hot chocolate kind of moping or ice-cream kind of moping?”

Merlin startles, his concentration fading, movement returning to the nature around. A mug shifts into his line of vision and he takes it, letting its warmth seep into his numb fingers. More warmth envelops him as his lover wraps himself around him, rests his chin on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin sinks into the embrace, breathes in the rich chocolate aroma with hints of vanilla and cinnamon, watches the tiny marshmallow cubes dissolving on the dark brown surface.

“I’m not moping,” Merlin says, taking a sip of the chocolate, savouring the taste.

“You realize I’m two years older than you, right? I should be the one moping,” Arthur says and Merlin can hear the smile in his voice. “Happy birthday,” he adds, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s cheek.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you died back then,” Merlin sighs. 

“And you’ll never have to know,” Arthur says, suddenly serious, a promise hidden in that simple statement.

‘Thank you,’ Merlin doesn’t have to say, the magic of Avalon hearing his unspoken words, whispers of ‘Emrys’ carried in the wind. 

He reaches for Arthur’s hand, twines their fingers together. He’s happy. He’s home.


End file.
